Page 166 of It Should Have Been You

I leap.

I leap right into his arms because with him holding me I know nothing can touch me.

My eyes follow his hand as it caresses over my shoulder, down my arm until his fingers interlock with mine. His other hand holds me with a firm pressure on my lower back. A quiet gasp leaves me as he pulls me closer, my front flush with his and he begins to move. I can’t take my eyes off him when my hips sway against his hand.

“You’re not stepping on my toes. You sure you didn’t take those ballet classes?”

This man can dance.

He answers me with a smirk, as if the thought is absurd. He’s just confident is everything he does.

His thumb slips under my T-shirt and motions circles on my lower back. My skin erupts in goosebumps, but I don’t care. I can’t deny the effect he has on me no more than I can ignore the sun rising in a matter of hours.

“You’re blushing.” He traces his thumb over my stained cheeks. “It’s beautiful. I love how you can’t hide what you’re feeling.”

When his thumb pulls my lip from the hold of my bite, I hold back a moan.

I want his lips on mine. I want to put an end to this curiosity. I want to know how he feels.

But I can’t ignore the part of me that is screaming, “Please don’t kiss me.”

Do I want to know?

Do I want to know everything that could have been?

Reading my mind like Logan always does, he says, “We don’t need to know. Not tonight.”

He leans his head against mine and his hand returns to the base of my spine.

Disappointment makes my heart sink into my stomach, but it doesn’t last long when he twirls me under his arm. A giddy laugh bursts from my chest before I’m back against the heat of his body. I rest my head on his shoulder and relax into the comfort his body gives.

I fit here like a jigsaw piece long missing.

The song ends.

Our dance doesn’t.

A second of silence and the song repeats.

We remain trapped in this beautiful bubble, and I never want to leave.

I’m not sure how many times the song repeats, but he never lets me go.

It could be minutes. It could be hours. But the sun isn’t far from rising when we finally part.

He leaves me with a kiss to the top of my head, and I go to bed with my fingers on my lips like he’s engraved there without ever touching them.

Thirty-Nine

“Beth, please don’t die in my coffee shop. It will be terrible for business.” Molly eyes me as I rest my head in my arms with a groan. Even that simple movement causes every joint to scream at me.

“I’m fine,” I persist, my words muffled against my arms. “I got a cold from the girls. I won’t die from a cold.” I don’t know if she hears me because I’m too busy trying to suppress a cough. I’m wheezing like I’ve run a marathon.

“How long have you been like this?”

All week, but it was easily disguised before today.

“A day or two.”

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